


Challenge

by Jaded_Girl_83



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: F/M, Pillow Talk, Stalking, flirtatious stalking, once a thief...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 03:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20185228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaded_Girl_83/pseuds/Jaded_Girl_83
Summary: The Thief of Eddis stole his first kiss with his future queen. What happens now that he is Attolis?





	Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> The story divisions are named after medieval Canonical hours.  
Lauds: Dawn  
Terce: Third hour, mid-morning approx. 9 a.m.  
None: Ninth hour, mid-afternoon approx. 3 p.m.  
Vespers: Evening  
Compline: Night

** _Lauds_ **

**_  
_**Slowly, disjointedly, Attolia rose from the depths of sleep towards consciousness. The presence of her husband’s body caused a brief jolt of disorientation after so many years of sleeping alone, but it quickly faded. Eugenides was a comforting weight atop her, his arms wrapped around her waist, his head pillowed on her shoulder, and their legs entangled beneath the soft sheets.

She absently ran her fingers through his hair and fought against the satisfied lassitude that threatened to lull her back to sleep. The amount of light coming through the window indicated that it was already later than she wished, and the events of the day would keep her busy well into evening.

Eugenides groaned deep in his chest. He shifted, pressing his face into her collarbone. “Cancel. _Everything._”

She pressed her lips tight, but was unable to keep the corner of her mouth from twitching. “That would be highly irresponsible.”

“Not irresponsible,” he informed her gravely. “Necessary.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Necessary?”

“Mmm.” He nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck. “I’m afraid…” He kissed her neck. “I am utterly…” He bestowed another kiss on her chin. “Unable…” Another just below her ear. “To move.”

“Despite evidence to the contrary,” she observed dryly. But she couldn’t help angling her head in response, exposing more of her throat and jaw to his seeking mouth. “And since you clearly have energy to spare, perhaps you’d like to be the one to greet the Brael ambassador this afternoon. Unless you’d prefer to hold court yourself.”

“Hang the court, hang the Brael ambassador, and hang everything and everyone who wants us to leave this bed.”

“That would be rather awkward, as I myself would end up facing the noose.” It was a lie. She was not at all inclined to leave. But duty was duty.

He levered himself onto his elbows and scrutinized her. Eugenides has always been able to see right through her, and he perceived her reluctance. His eyes softened, but he heaved a martyr’s sigh. “Oh, very well. What a devoted queen I married.” His mouth screwed up as if it couldn’t decide whether to be sour or amused. “But if I must keep up this gods damned farce until nightfall, then I insist that you give me a kiss.”

She could cover him with kisses and it would not be enough to satisfy her. But if he could play games, so could she. “You are still a thief, are you not?” She raised her chin in challenge. “You must steal one, then.”

His face took on an expression that caused her to reconsider her refusal to clear the day’s schedule. With a wicked grin, Eugenides sat back on his heels, his arm across her back pulling her upright as well. His lips hovered over hers, his warm breath driving her mad with impatience. But he pulled away and held up three fingers an inch from her nose.

“Three,” he smirked. “I will steal three kisses from you before we meet again in this bed.”

She raised an eyebrow again, but said nothing.

* * *

** _Terce_ **

“And is this all the information you have at present?”

Relius gave a slight, apologetic bow. “I’m afraid so, Your Majesty. I am, however, expecting another messenger within two days’ time.”

Attolia nodded, trying to map out the Mede emperor’s palace in her head. She stepped over to the window to gaze at the sky. Her fingers tapped on the stone sill. “If we are unable to introduce spies into the guard, perhaps the kitchen staff or attendants would be a workable alternative.”

Her Minister of the Archives sighed, still thumbing through his book on Mede law. “In theory, perhaps, but the Medes rely on slave labor for much of those tasks. Apart from the trouble of ensuring our spies are actually purchased, any false documentation convincing enough would be…”

A dark blur suddenly blocked out the top half of the window, and she had less than half a heartbeat to register the sight of her husband’s upside-down face as he swung down and gave her a quick peck on the mouth. “One,” he mouthed silently, holding out his index finger. 

He swung back out of sight before she had managed to choke out a throttled, outraged, “_You-_!”

“…of course still leaves us with the problem of…” Relius trailed off, looking at his queen uncertainly. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?”

Attolia unclenched her jaw. “You… have thought this out very thoroughly, Relius.” She turned from the window to bestow on him a serene countenance. “I am confident that you will find the best way. But I must cut our time short today.”

“Ah, yes,” he chuckled. “The day is quite busy. I will have operatives ready to observe the Brael ambassador.”

Attolia nodded and left, gathering attendants and guards in her wake. She looked out the corner of her eye as they passed an open window, but there was no retreating figure skipping along the roof tiles.

Her mouth screwed up briefly. Round one- Eugenides.

* * *

** _None_ **

Attolia released a long sigh as she wandered the Queen’s Garden. At her request, her attendants and guards remained near the entrance, leaving her free to relish the brief moment alone moving within the closed and secure arbors. Breakfast had been a rushed, perfunctory affair, and she’d had no time for lunch at all, moving from meeting to meeting. In a few minutes she would hold court. With Baron Erondites requesting a special audience, it did not promise to be a pleasant session. She was almost grateful that Eugenides would be absent; his lounging across the throne like a cat would guarantee to use up valuable stores of her patience, and no doubt spur Erondites to even greater degrees of impertinence.

It had occurred to her that wandering alone in her garden would provide her husband with another opportunity to complete his challenge. Which was why she was indulging in this brief respite while he was safely occupied with greeting the Brael-

Without so much as whisper of warning, Eugenides appeared from around the arbor’s next turn, swept her in one arm, and kissed her. This kiss was deep and passionate and leisurely, the two of them safely blocked from sight by a corridor of thick shrubs. 

Attolia happily lost herself in the kiss before realization flashed across her mind like a lightning strike. She pushed him away sharply. “Where is the Brael ambassador?” she hissed.

The smile he gave her was equal parts innocent and infuriating. “Oh, it’s the strangest thing! I happened to mention the royal caldarium in passing, and the ambassador was most eager to experience it. Apparently, the Braels have a similar, if somewhat more rustic practice, and it seemed only polite to offer it for his use.”

“How fortuitous,” she responded icily.

Eugenides’ mouth shifted into a grin that was more natural. “I like the Brael ambassador. He doesn’t stand on ceremony; it’s quite refreshing.” The grin softened further. “He wouldn’t be out of place in Eddis.”

Her ice began to thaw. If the ambassador was as Eugenides described, then no harm would come from such a spare royal welcome. And if the delegation’s blunt manner was of some comfort to her husband amidst the artifice and protocol of the Attolian court, well, she was glad of it. She smiled.

Eugenides smiled back, and tapped her nose with his finger. He held up the finger in front of her, a second finger joining it. “That’s two.”

He sauntered out of sight with no more sound than he had made at his appearance.

* * *

** _Vespers_**

Attolia sat on her throne, taking long, deliberate breaths. The throne room was blessedly silent, with the court long gone and her guard and attendants dismissed to await her outside the door. The flames of the candles were the only movement, her breath the only sound.

Her hands were twisted around the folds of her robe as if the crimson velvet were Baron Erondites’ neck. He had been in rare form today. Parading his insolence in front of not only the other barons but any dignitaries and commoners in attendance, he has thoroughly outmaneuvered her today. Relius, she knew, was already trying to discover how Erondites had suborned the usually neutral Baron Anagnos without either his or her own spies catching even the smallest rumor of the alliance. 

She shut her eyes tightly as she exhaled a long breath, and her head sagged as her anger gave way to exhaustion. She was so tired. Tired of striving for respect, of struggling for obedience and cooperation, of constantly battling and maneuvering her court towards the good of Attolia. Just… tired.

She jumped as a hand wrapped around the base of her skull. Her eyes flew open and her whole body tensed, but even as she opened her mouth to call for her guard, a pair of gentle lips pressed against the skin between her eyebrows. “Shhhhh,” Eugenides soothed, placing another kiss upon the crown of her head and tracing her jaw with his thumb. “All will be well.”

He pulled away to kneel in front of her, his hand leaving her neck to rest atop her fists. He coaxed her fingers to relax, stroking the rigid tendons and bending down to kiss the knuckles. “Irene. All will be well,” he repeated. He craned his head to look up at her, his expression an odd mixture of pleading and mischievous. “After all,” he grinned, turning one of her hands over to kiss the inside of her wrist, “I still have five and a half months left.”

She all but snorted in amusement, ducking her head to hide the undignified sound. The reminder of her husband’s ridiculous wedding night boast buoyed her spirits, and her hands finally dropped away from her lap. She raised her head to once more express her skepticism…

Eugenides was gone.

She shook her head, running her fingers over where he’d kissed her wrist and shivering slightly. _And that is three,_ she mused. Allowing a small smile, she rested her head against the backrest of her throne and released a much more relaxed breath. How like Eugenides to have won the challenge, but ensure that she was the one who profited in the end.

* * *

** _Compline_ **

Releasing a slow breath, Attolia sank into her bath. Already scrubbed and rinsed, she’d dismissed her attendants while she soaked in the hot water. Her long exhale dragged her body deeper and deeper until only her eyes, nose, mouth, and chin remained above the surface. She took shallow breaths, the water in her ears muffling all sounds but the hollow ebb and flow of her breathing. She closed her eyes, her thoughts emptied of everything but the feel of her skin registering the contrast of hot water and the cooler air of the room-

A strong hand gripped her neck and dragged her head and shoulders out of the water. She managed a yelp before she felt his kiss press against her lips- brief, firm, and possessive.

Flushing, she pushed Eugenides away and gave him a glare that would have sent her court away quaking. He was supremely unimpressed, smugly holding up three fingers. “And that’s three.” His smirk begged to be slapped from his face. “The kiss in the throne room didn’t count.”

At the sound of her yelp, her attendants had knocked and asked if she was all right. But at the sound of a masculine voice, the door to the bath was thrown open and Aglaia and Phresine rushed in. “Your Majesty!”

They froze. Aglaia’s face went through a number of expressions, warring between shock, outrage, and uncertainty. She glanced back at the room behind her before looking back into the bath, clearly at a loss to explain how the King of Attolia and former Thief of Eddis had managed to sneak past them. Her fingers clutched together as she tried to find her voice and the proper etiquette for this particular situation. Phresine, however, had reacted with a single raise of her eyebrows before her expression settled back into the proper blank compliance of a queen’s handmaid, the amused delight still dancing in her eyes the only hint to her opinions.

Aglaia did not acclimate so easily. Phresine excepted, her attendants were still adapting to the realization that Eugenides could appear whenever and wherever he wished in the palace, as well as the realization that Attolia Irene was in fact quite in love with her goatfoot usurper of a husband. The younger attendant drew herself up, automatically if unnecessarily prepared to defend her queen, even from her king. “Your… Majesty,” she grated, this time focusing on Attolis. “It is quite…” She trailed off, uncertain as to whether she could accuse the king of impropriety when the queen had not ordered his removal. She tried another approach. “Her Majesty has expressed her wish to be alone with no interruptions while she takes her-”

“I was not the one doing the interrupting,” Eugenides informed her loftily. “I was happily enjoying the peace and quiet of an empty royal bathing chamber when the queen very rudely decided to take a bath.”

He had been waiting. The bastard had been _waiting_. As Aglaia stood dumbfounded and Phresine stifled a suspicious-sounding cough, Attolia cleared her throat. “As the peace and quiet for _both_ of us has been thoroughly disturbed,” she said, sounding calm enough though her jaw was still clenched, “Aglaia and Phresine may fetch my towel and robe.”

Eugenides crouched back over the tub, the very picture of false docility. “And what would you have me do?”

She gripped the front of his tunic with a dripping hand, water staining the silk as she pulled him close. “You,” she hissed, looking deep into his eyes. She glared a few heartbeats longer before she nipped his bottom lip. “_Get back into that bed_.”

His eyes were black as the night, black as the devil. A slow smirk slithered across his mouth. “My Queen,” he whispered huskily. He grasped her hand and pulled her up to her feet, the bath water sheeting down her. He kept his black eyes on her face as he bent down to kiss her knuckles with perfect decorum, though his lips lingered a half second too long. He slowly lowered her hand and slowly drew away, their fingers still tangled until he finally turned to stride out the door.

Only her iron self-control kept her from shuddering. It certainly was the only thing keeping her from following him while still dripping wet. Instead, she schooled her patience, and refrained from barking at Phresine and Aglaia to hurry.


End file.
